Today my cat excreted someting that looks noteably like a dick and balls . I don't know what's more problematic; that I correlate the appearance of cat plops with the rudie nudey region of a man, or that my cat does pornographic shits.

Animals Dancing to Salt-n-Pepa's 'Push It'

I need to more diligently enforce my parental authoritah and just say no to bad ideas. Daughter wanted to watch Frankenweenie before bed. Neither of us had yet seen the movie, but my maternal gut was trying to engage by brain in a dialogue something like this: "Are you 'tarded? This is, in fact, a bad idea." Yet I gave into peer group pressure and watched the film with my 10 year old.

The movie is cute as a button, deeply touching and fun to point out cultural references in, but it's not ideal viewing for a sensitive child who's currently struggling with accepting that her elderly kitty is in fact not immortal.

# too much therapy

Fuck the Catholic School System

Nobody can intellectually argue that I am unscathed by years of Catholic schooling. Although the hip dance moves are possibly new to me, this song haunted my childhood and quite possibly serves as a partial explanation as to why I am such a fuck up in adulthood.

Me in my entirety
Not just my heart
Feels like it's
breaking
breaking...........................
Crack.

I have a cat purring against my back. This isn't an unpleasant thing. I'm also pretty sure that  a piece of glass or something is wedged into my foot, so it hurts when I walk and I'm feeling anxious about going to work today (no correlation). I've got an uneasy, queasy pain in my sactum and I'm not sure if it's The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo trilogy finally fucking me up.






Lisbeth is a fucking awesome character and the books are intruging and reasonably well written, but the level of pain and violence against women is taking a toll on my already very precarious faith in humanity.

It is after 10:30 at night and my daughter has stopped jumping around like a loon but is now singing "Bad Horse" from Doctor Horrible whilst drawing. At the corner of MY bed, which is not the same thing as actually lying down in the bed and besides, it's the wrong fucking bed.

This book is seriously my fucking autobiography.